


Declarations of Dependence

by velvetcadence



Category: Wanted (2008), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Bullet Bending, Charles as Wesley, Erik as Fox, Improbable Physics, M/M, fusion!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 10:24:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/899213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetcadence/pseuds/velvetcadence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whatever happened, it would be over in a heartbeat. Shark could either die by his hand or the bullet would curve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Declarations of Dependence

Shark never addressed him as anything other than ‘you’. Not Charles, not even Xavier. Always 'you'. Succinct and to the point, like the man himself.

“You. Shoot the target.”

Charles felt it when Shark moved, causing a shift in the static in the room. He felt the heat of him as they brushed shoulders, a common occurrence as of late, as if it meant approval. And all it really took for Charles to garner it was getting a lifetime of morals and habits beaten, mangled and broken out of him.

That was the kind of mentor the Shark was. Sink or Swim. Learn or die.

He placed himself in front of the slab of meat Charles was supposed to curve the bullet around.

Charles let out a breath, the corners of his mouth up in a disbelieving smile. Even now, he was still the kind of person whose first reaction was to smile. No matter. A little more time and a little more pain would turn it to something less of a smile and more of an ugly grimace.

“You’re crazy,” Charles declared.

Shark inclined his head and watched Charles like he’d watched him at that day at the pharmacy, when he’d appeared out of nowhere and said in the same blasé tone, “I knew your father. He was killed on a rooftop yesterday.”

“Do it.”

Charles felt the chill of Sebastian Shaw’s gaze at the back of his neck. The sweat on his hairline slid down to pool at his temples. “Fuck.”

Shark waited, his gaze like the edge of a broken glass bottle. Charles felt the anger rise within him. This was  **bullshit** , absolute fucking—

Charles heard it first, his heart echoing in his ears, the blood in his veins pumping up with adrenaline too fast. The sensation came next, the lightness in his limbs, the absolute control over them. His vision pulsed with clarity. His awareness crested; he gripped his gun and followed the path it was always meant to go. It was a tenuous balance between instinct and control. Rage and serenity.

_Focus, you._

Charles pulled the trigger.

Whatever happened, it would be over in a heartbeat. Shark could either die by his hand or the bullet would curve. The fiercest man Charles knew, who’d survived the horrors of a holocaust and the horrors of the Fraternity, would push and push and push until Charles tipped over the edge and broke a little more.

-

_“You’re a waste of my time if you’re going to give up now.” Shark grabbed his hair, tilting Charles’ chin towards him. “Why are you here?”_

_“Fuck this.” Charles seethed, and received a solid punch to the jaw for his trouble. He stumbled to the floor. Shark trapped him with his weight, shaking him dizzy by the front of his bloodied shirt._

_“Why are you here?” Shark demanded._

_“I don’t know!” Charles groaned when the second blow hit. The Fraternity took turns beating the weakness out of him, but this was the first time Shark was taking part in it. It hurt—more than the physical pain, it hurt that he’d failed enough to drive Shark into this kind of anger and disappointment._

_“Why. Are. You. Here?”_

_Charles was blinded by pain as the man twisted his fingers in Charles’ hair and bashed him against the floor. Shark’s tone had taken a bitter edge, one that promised that they would keep this up until Charles could come up with the right answer, if there was one. Because Shark wasn’t intent on giving up on him, not when they’ve come so far, not when it's consumed so much of their time, and certainly not when the other option was for Charles to go back to the shit job that wasted his brain and body. When Charles took too long to answer, Shark slapped him more out of frustration than malice. “Why are you here?!”_

_“I don’t know who I am,” Charles sobbed, driven past all points of no return and choking against the metallic taste of blood. “I don’t know who the fuck I am.”_

_He felt rather than heard Shark’s quiet relief as the man let him go. Charles only had the vaguest recollection of being picked up from the floor and placed into a recuperating bath, Shark’s steady presence always at the edges of his senses._

-

The bullet curved.

Bull’s-eye.

The success didn’t fill him with exhilaration as it should have. He’d barely realized it was a success. His heartbeat was too loud and the room reverberated with it. The room stilled for a long moment. And then something interesting happened.

It was fascinating to watch. It began with the softening of the eyes, the seam of lips tugging upwards and parting to reveal teeth, like a beacon of light in the quiet dingy room.

Time resumed, and Charles gasped in a breath of new air.

Shark had too many teeth when he smiled. But goddamn was it worth it.

 


End file.
